


Wizengamot

by Twelvefootmountaintroll



Series: Falling Dreams [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twelvefootmountaintroll/pseuds/Twelvefootmountaintroll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A character exploration piece centered around the Malfoys' trial after the War.<br/>Written to fit my "Falling Dreams" verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wizengamot

The kind and forgiving Wizengamot have generously allowed the Malfoy family to be tried together. Draco is seventeen and of age, therefore technically capable of sitting his own trial, but the post-war tribunal is anxious to get things over with.

Draco is sitting in between his parents on the floor of one of the larger courtrooms. A larger crowd has gathered for this hearing than for the others; the Wizarding community awaits to see how such a prominent Pureblood family will be treated.

The Chief Warlock clears his throat, waits for the crowd to quiet down. He peers down at the three Malfoys.

“Well, Lucius Malfoy, why don’t we start with you?”

“Yes.” Draco’s father has no trouble finding his voice. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Start with your first contact with Voldemort and the group known as the ‘Death Eaters.’”

Pausing for a moment to find the thread, Lucius’s eyes glaze over. He blinks and begins his story, voice unwavering, proud. However, he speaks also honestly of his regrets—knowing that a middling amount is key. Too little and he is an incorrigible, Dark threat to the community; too much and he is an oily liar.

Draco listens mutely to his father telling the story of their downfall. He speaks of the family affinity for the Darker Arts—the traditional beliefs of Pureblood superiority. He tells how the Death Eaters at first seemed, on the whole, a harmless group, one in which to share ideologies and speak fervently but never one to take home with you or act upon in public. He was drawn in by brotherhood and trapped by promises of power. Slowly it leaked into the rest of his life until he was inextricably tied to this once-casual association.

Lucius says, honestly, that he never killed in the name of the Dark Lord. He tortured only when commanded or when pretense demanded he do so. He enjoyed it at first—he was young and stupid. Later, he began to blame the lower classes for his problems. He hated Muggles for trapping him in this shadowy life and so sank deeper. Narcissa was drawn in, but never as deeply as he.

When their son was born—their precious, their only—they wanted to spare him the pain and hate in which their lives had been inundated. But a little penchant for Dark magic was normal for a growing boy, wasn’t it? They never knew how much hatred he learned from them. They could never stop themselves from teaching it.

Then the Dark Lord returned. Lucius was bound to do the same; to ignore the Dark Lord’s call would have been death for his family. He might have taken them and hidden but for Draco. He could not bear to see his son in danger, always hidden, always afraid.

Eventually, Lucius failed his master as he always knew he would. Love for your family, it seemed, was not sufficient encouragement for a Death Eater. And so the Dark Lord sought to punish Lucius for his failure. What punishment could be greater than to take away his only child? None.

Here Lucius trails off. The story is no longer his.

Draco can’t decide if he hates or loves his father more. He hates that he was dragged into this—born into it. He hates that he was a scared, impressionable kid. He hates all the hatred he carries in his gut like a glowing ember. But he loves the mother who only ever sought to protect him. He loves the family, noble and proud, that he was born into. He loves that subtle, heart-wrenching tremor he hears in his father’s voice when Lucius speaks of him.

He will have to make up his mind later. It is clear that the court wants him to finish the tale. So he clears his throat and thinks of Father’s clear, unhurried tones.

“The Dark Lord recruited me the day after Father was imprisoned in Azkaban. I was fifteen. I was angry—angry at my father for being captured and angry at the world for allowing him to be taken away.

“He said I would succeed where my father had failed. He said he knew I was special, that I alone could slip in through the chinks in Dumbledore’s armor. He knew I would think it high honor to be branded a Death Eater and follow in my father’s footsteps.”

Here, Draco’s fingers instinctively itch to cover his forearm, but he resists. Malfoys do not fidget.

“Though I had been sworn to secrecy, a few others knew of my mission.That summer, Bellatrix taught me Occlumency, knowing that Dumbledore was a skilled Legilimens and would have seen straight through my mission. I presented an image of willingness to serve. Internally, I was petrified. I knew my most likely fate. I knew my parents would suffer for my failure. I had no idea how I could possibly succeed. Even the—”

For the first time, his voice cuts out. He continues. His family needs him to be calm.

“Even Voldemort had not succeeded in killing Dumbledore.

“I got to school. I was totally absorbed in my mission. No matter how hard I thought about it, I could come up with nothing that seemed likely to succeed. I became desperate and resorted to faulty methods. Two students were accidentally involved. They, however, survived, as did Dumbledore.

“Then, at long last, I managed to fix the Vanishing Cabinet in Hogwarts. It had a mate in Borgin & Burkes. Death Eaters would be able to travel from one to the other, bypassing the school’s defenses. A night was chosen to enact the plan. We didn’t know until later that Dumbledore was gone that night. We laid the trap atop the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore was there when I reached the top of the tower. I disarmed him.

“He... he attempted to dissuade me, a task made easy by my already weakened resolve. He offered to take my mother and myself into protection, saying my father would be safe in Azkaban. However, we were cut off by Death Eaters arriving at the scene. They urged me to finish the task quickly. I couldn’t.

“And then Severus Snape arrived. Dumbledore pleaded.”

The Chief Warlock speaks for the first time since Lucius began the story. “Please, tell us exactly what happened between Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore.”

“Snape was silent,” Draco says. “Dumbledore said, ‘Severus. Severus, please.’

“And Snape cast the Killing Curse. Dumbledore fell. We retreated.

“The next school year was relatively quiet for me. I still feared for my parents. Then, over Christmas break, a band of Snatchers came to the manor claiming to have Potter and his friends. I was asked to identify them. I was reluctant. I harbored no love for them, but—to send them to their deaths was beyond me.

“It became clear their identities were genuine. But with the aid of a House Elf—our former elf, Dobby—they escaped, taking our wands in the process.

“I returned to school. When Harry did the same, I separated myself from the rest of the Slytherins being removed from the school. I knew Voldemort would not look kindly upon a retreat. Crabbe and Goyle were convinced we could capture Potter ourselves and be rewarded. I was skeptical, but the prospect did seem enticing. Besides, I wanted to know why he had returned to Hogwarts.

“We confronted him in the Room of Requirement. He was looking for something—a diadem. We fought and Crabbe set loose Fiendfyre, which he was unable to control. Potter, Weasley, and Granger found a pair of brooms. They saved Goyle and myself. Crabbe died in the flames. After that, we went separate ways.”

Draco takes a deep breath and tries to loosen the knot of tension in his stomach. The Chief Warlock turns to Narcissa.

“One question for you, Mrs Malfoy. What happened in the forest?”

If Lucius’s and Draco’s voices had been firm, hers positively rings.

“The boy, Potter, approached our camp. The Dark Lord struck him down, and yet he, too, seemed to feel a blow. When he recovered he ordered me to confirm the boy’s death. I knelt beside him, hid his face with my hair. I could feel his pulse strongly. I asked him about Draco. The boy said he was alive. I told the Dark Lord Potter was dead. He did not doubt me. Not even the half-giant paused in his grief to look at the living body in his arms.”

“Thank you,” the Warlock calls out. The Wizengamot discuss the testimonies in low tones; Draco cannot even discern a feeling for their opinions. Finally, the Chief Warlock speaks again.

“First, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Those in favour of a reduced sentence? Those opposed? ...Draco Malfoy hereby sentenced to two months’ service or equivalent with the Ministry of Magic Department of Amelioration.”

Draco does not relax.

“Second, Narcissa Malfoy. Those in favour of a reduced sentence? Those opposed? ...Narcissa Malfoy hereby sentenced to six months’ service or equivalent...”

Still, Draco hardly dares breathe.

“Last, Lucius Malfoy. Those in favour of a reduced sentence? Those opposed? ...Lucius Malfoy hereby sentenced to two years’ service or equivalent...”

He closes his eyes. It was better than he could have hoped for. At least his father would not be subjected to the Dementors since they had been removed as guards to Azkaban and only the heaviest sentences in the Amelioration Court were for prison time. The Ministry had decided it was best to let the criminals work off their debts and be released rather than hold them all in jail, where they would be useless.

So Draco returns to the question of his hate—or is it the question of his love?


End file.
